The Paper Wife’s Empire novel Chapter 5

When Ramona approached the car, Jotham quickly composed himself, ready to leave together as usual.

This time of day, the two of them always headed to the office together.

“You should have your assistant drive you today. I’ve scheduled an appointment with a real estate agent. I want to check out some properties.”

Jotham looked surprised for a moment. “But there’s that big meeting at the office today...”

“These homes are in high demand. If I don’t go today, I might miss my chance.” Ramona cut him off, her tone even and impossible to read, though her lips and eyes were curved in a gentle smile. “Aren’t you always telling me that work is endless, and I should learn to enjoy life while I can?”

For some reason, her calmness sent a chill down Jotham’s spine.

He forced a smile in response. “Alright, then I won’t go to the office either. I’ll come with you to see the place.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Ramona’s smile only widened. She turned and lightly poked him in the chest with her finger. “I want to choose for myself. Once I’ve found the right one, I’ll show you.”

Of course, she knew what he was up to. Jotham didn’t really want to keep her company—he wanted to keep tabs on her.

If things went according to his plan, and the house was purchased jointly under their names as husband and wife, it would end up belonging to him and Brianna.

Ramona’s tone took on a teasing edge, and Jotham suddenly felt a spark of excitement. He caught her wrist, playing along.

“Is this going to be a surprise for me?”

“Of course.”

Her smile froze for a split second before she pulled her hand free.

“Alright, I’ll let you do things your way.” Jotham’s voice dropped, and he wrapped an arm gently around her shoulders.

With nowhere to escape, Ramona forced herself to endure his embrace, suppressing the disgust churning in her stomach.

Once she’d driven off, Jotham’s smile vanished.

Was it just his imagination, or had Ramona changed somehow?

Or maybe women were just naturally sensitive—was she jealous over him and Brianna?

He tugged at his tie, suddenly irritated for reasons he couldn’t name.

He shouldn’t be letting Ramona get under his skin. Because no matter how good Ramona was, no matter how sincere her feelings, he would only have one wife, and that was Brianna.

An hour later, Ramona stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the sweeping view of the financial district.

She’d set her sights on this luxury single-floor penthouse—state-of-the-art technology, minimalist décor, over three thousand square feet, tastefully furnished. It wasn’t the largest in the city, but in terms of location, nothing beat it.

She could already picture how beautiful the city lights would look here at night.

“This is the one,” she told the sales manager, satisfied. “Let’s do the paperwork. Put the deed in my name only.”

This place was move-in ready. It meant she could leave that suffocating, toxic “home” behind whenever she wanted.

“Certainly, ma’am.”

The sales manager’s eyes lit up; he’d thought she was just window shopping. Suddenly, her treatment was upgraded. He ushered her to the VIP lounge, ordered coffee and pastries, and went to retrieve the contract himself.

All she had to do was swipe her card and sign her name—everything else would be handled by staff.

As Ramona waited for the paperwork, a shrill, spoiled voice cut through the air:

So, this Ms. Huxley really did have the clout to back up her arrogance.

The female manager added, “I understand this seems unfair, but rules are rules.”

“It’s not that I’m upset,” Ramona said calmly. “It’s just not particularly fair. But by your policy, my net worth outranks hers. I’ll take the apartment.”

She exhaled softly and turned to her manager. “Please expedite the process. I’m on a tight schedule.”

Her meaning was clear: her wealth put her above even the Huxley Group on Havencrest’s rankings.

“...What?”

Both Ms. Huxley and the manager were stunned.

“What did she say? She has priority?” Ms. Huxley turned to the female manager, incredulous.

The woman quickly checked her reservation list.

Impossible. If someone of higher standing than Ms. Huxley was buying, they should have been notified in advance. At the very least, the general manager would be handling the client.

Judging by Ramona’s ordinary outfit, she looked like a newly minted millionaire at best. How could her net worth possibly surpass Ms. Huxley’s?

“Miss, perhaps you didn’t understand. Here, we—”

“Verify my assets,” Ramona interrupted, handing over her ID again. She couldn’t be bothered to argue; she’d dealt with far nastier people than this. Snobs like these were nothing.

Her manager hesitated, but went to process her information.

Meanwhile, on the second-floor VIP lounge, a sheer curtain stirred. A tall, imposing figure stood and quietly left their seat.